


Lonely Angels

by FallenSoldiers



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angels, Demons, Gen, Gods, Past Lives, Rebirth, hella lonely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 03:15:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6178060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenSoldiers/pseuds/FallenSoldiers





	Lonely Angels

         It didn't hurt at all, really. It wasn't quite what I was expecting death to be like. Well, a little. Darkness was expected, and here I am: sitting in darkness, waiting for something. "Oh," a voice broke the silence, but from where I couldn't tell; it was still dark. "It's you," it rang again after some seconds, but this time, it sounded a bit disappointed. The voice wasn't exactly male or female; it sounded like both at the same time. Really, it sounded like two voices speaking at the same time. I tried to speak in response, but I couldn't. I wasn't- how do I put this?- physical; I didn't feel anything. It spoke, "You're dead, by the way. Car accident, right? Shame."

No shit.

"I can hear you, you know."

Silence.

"Alright, so I guess I should explain all of this. It's my job, after all. And don't worry, you're not spending eternity in nothingness."

Good. So, what'll it be: Heaven or Hell?

It laughed; a high-pitched, elfish sort of laugh. "Neither. They don't exist."

So, what then? What will happen?

"You'll be transferred to another host- body, that is."

Another life?

"Yeah. Except no-one can control which body you inhabit. Not even a god."

A god? But you said-

"I know what I said. They're not like what you think they are. They're an overseer of sorts."

Huh. So, what are you?

It paused for a few, long moments. "I'm an angel. Again, not like what you think we're like."

What are you like?

It repeated, "Not like what you think we're like."

What about demons? What are they like?

"They're kind of like us. In fact, basically the same, but they just oversee different things. Angels oversee the souls after death and make sure they get to where they're supposed to be going, and Demons oversee the souls a little before and during death, just to make sure they do die and get here. So, yeah, not like what you think we're like."

So, where am I going?

"Can't say. Nobody can predict that; it's all up to chance. Your sex, what you'll look like, where you'll be, what you like and dislike, your talents, your intelligence, everything that makes you human will change in your next life. Maybe only some will stay with you, maybe they'll all change, or maybe they'll all stay with you. Nobody can say for sure."

Damn.

"Yeah, and you won't remember a thing from your past life. But we do."

Really?

"Totally. Right now, you're George Walker, 36-years-old, born and raised in England, right?"

Yup.

"Of course, again, you won't remember a thing that's happened." It paused again. "You won't remember me, either.. But, anyway, in your most recent past life, you were Joseph Jones, born in the USA but moved to Canada, where he found someone and got married. He lived the rest of his life there. He was a doctor. Funny, someone I know oversaw that soul."

Who?

"Me."

Ohh. Damn.

"My name's Anne, by the way. We're not really supposed to have names, but I couldn't help it."

Do you have a last name?

"Didn't really think about it."

Hm. What about.. Lancaster?

"Lancaster? Anne Lancaster? That sounds pretty- Oh. Wait."

What? Is something wrong?

"Uh, no, it's- you're ready now."

Do I have to go?

It sighed. "Yeah. Time always goes by so quickly here."

Wait- How long has it been?

"At least twenty years."

Twenty years? When is this?

"It's 2038 now. Other than outbreaks of some diseases and some major scientific discoveries, you really haven't missed much."

Scientific discoveries? Like what?

"Doesn't matter. You'll find out. Go on, then."

Go on? Where?

"What's with all the questions? Just walk."

         So, I did. I couldn't feel myself walking, but I knew that I must've been moving; and, right before I was wiped of everything I knew, I heard it faintly whisper,

"Goodbye, George. Good luck."


End file.
